Virtual-Doug

Same Same, but Different

I was asked a question last night - what was it I found in Britain that was different from what I expected?  I can’t say there’s much of anything I am truly surprised about - except perhaps that pubs really are a central feature of the British culture, and far different than the bars of America.  (More on pubs later.)

The British and the American cultures are very much alike - more than I had imagined.  Some quick observations:

Besides the well known fact that the Brits drive on the left side of the road, I also have found they are not as much of a car culture as ours is.  Wondering why I saw far fewer overweight people here than in America, I began to realize the small city of Sittingbourne, where we are staying, makes walking easy.  Need to go to the train station for the commute into London?  Its an easy ten minute walk. Going to church?  Easy ten minute walk.  Need a quick something at the grocery store?  Yeah - its an easy ten minute walk.  The streets are narrow and that discourages driving big cars - in fact, it discourages driving.  Parking is at a premium - and walking is easy.

If you ever wonder why Britain does not get rid of its monarchy, one of the most observable reasons is tourism - London is packed with tourists - and we weren’t even here in the peak season.  Walking near Buckingham Palace places you in a veritable Tower of Babel - Chinese, French, German, Japanese - plus I few languages I couldn't figure out.  People all want to come to London to see ceremony as only the Brits can do it.  Besides the fact that he was obviously keeping an eye on me, I was to learn that the troops guarding the queen and government are regular soldiers, not members of special ceremonial units.  This young solder may well have been in Afghanistan a few months ago. 

Like many countries, there is a distinct difference between city and countryside.  Sittingbourne’s easy train connection to London makes it a bedroom community - think Long Island in America.  London is full of immigrants from many different countries.  I laughed when I heard that some people consider curry to be the English national food.  The Indian cuisine is ubiquitous.  Maybe there is some sort of cosmic payback for colonization, eh?  But the countryside has few people of color (or colour, as it is spelled here).  I saw a few black faces in church and school and there is an Indian curry restaurant or two in Sittingbourne, but for the most part, the city is very white.

Great Britain really is a land of castles - lots of them - most very old.  A case can be made for the argument that says if you have seen one castle, you have seen them all, yet there were distinct differences between the Leed’s Castle and the one overlooking the white cliffs of Dover.  Most of them are maintained by some sort of trust, either a government operation or a private one dedicated to preserving the buildings and the grounds.    Dover was doubly interesting because of its use during World War II.  Underground tunnels once held a hospital (very interesting to Cindy as a former combat nurse), the war rooms used by Sir Winston Churchill and deep underground tunnels created to shelter the government in the event of a nuclear attack during the Cold War.

But I wonder about the gorgeous little countryside churches seen throughout County Kent.  We went to a choral concert last night at a church whose first clergy was assigned to shepherd the flock in the year 1314.  I don’t know how old the building was, but I’m sure it would have been built  about the same time.  The average Sunday attendance is now measured in the teens and most worshipers are elderly.  Knowing they are owned by the Diocese of Canterbury, I assume the resources probably don’t exist to maintain them all.   I wonder what will happen to these living museums once the current parishioners die off.

Great Britain is on a fairly small island - that’s why roads are narrow and all the houses are two stories.  Villages are close together.  Being in the countryside at Dover, I was quite surprised to climb atop one landmark and look down upon the port of Dover - a very busy place where ferries docked, disgorging themselves of the cars, buses, trucks and people who were in France an hour ago.  Our host told me it is not uncommon for Brits to get in their car, drive through either the Channel Tunnel (Chunnel) or take the ferry across, have dinner in Paris, then return home that same day.

Our time in England is drawing to a close, but this has been a jammed-packed trip, filled with more than I have time to write about now.  But - there is more to come when we get back home.

Canterbury

Its easy to visit places like Canterbury Cathedral and forget that it exists for some other reason than the tourists’ enjoyment.  It is an very imposing place , worthy of the huge crowds that descend every day - and it is very old.  St. Augustine erected the first buildings in 597 AD, but the current building didn't begin until the mid eleventh century.

Almost a millennia ago.

The Church of England keeps a delicate balance of keeping the massive building open to the public yet  being sure it remains it a sacred place for prayer.  The delicately carved screen between the nave and the central worship area with its high altar helps create a real sense of the presence of God. Walking up the wide steps, one’s eyes are led to the altar.  Cindy did a great job of capturing the beauty of the Cathedral with her photos. 

Canterbury today is still very much a place of worship and prayer.  While we did not attend a larger service, the Chaplains say prayers throughout the day - bringing life to old cold stone. 

But there are also private connections  between one person and her God.

It is as it has always been - one God open to all, yet being able to work with us one person at a time.

Across the Pond

Rather than cross the Pacific (again), we decided to go the other way and cross the Atlantic.  Cindy has a distant cousin she met on Facebook and the result has been athis long desired visit to the England.  The ten hour flight from Dallas-Ft. Worth to Heathrow was as boring as any trip to Asia - but shorter.

And our hosts have been super.  Matt and Fay have had us bumping our butts all over London and County Kent.  The trip will be a chance to not only do the usual tourist stuff (like walk past Queen Elizabeth’s house) but also to attend a jazz club and enjoy a fabulous show by Dee Dee Bridgewater.

(Be sure to click on each photo to see a larger version.)

Yes - of course, there are castles to be seen.  We’ve already toured one, reputed to be the prettiest  castle in Europe.  It was old - built of stone - with a moat - all that kind of good stuff, and Cindy was in her element.  As for me, it was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.  (Too drafty.)

And of course, it is illegal to visit London without seeing Big Ben.  I was to learn, however, that what we Americans call Big Ben is actually the bell within St. Stephen’s Tower. 

If you have followed us on past travels, you know my real desire is to find out how real people live.  The tourist trips are really reconnaissance trips to find out where to go later.  But Matt and Fay have greatly shortened the recon - we have already discovered the joys of the typical English pub. 

Hopefully I’ll find other parts of “the real England” to share with you.

Oh yeah - the beer is as good as its reputation.

Muleshoe 3

Leaving New Mexico in 1999 and moving to Texas was difficult for me - I lost a large part of my inventory of jokes.  New Mexicans see themselves as being a bit better than Texans and have many jokes to prove it.

Therefore - “The wind isn’t blowing - its just that Texas sucks.”

The last day in Muleshoe, both were true.

Sunday morning dawned bright and calm - and we wondered about the dire predictions of the Lubbock television weather guys who said we were under a high wind warning, a blowing dust warning and a dust storm warning.  By mid-morning, we realized the forecast was correct.

Winds picked up to 65 miles per hour gusts - and all the freshly plowed top soil in the area began to move itself from one county to the next.

(As usual, be sure to click on the photos to see the larger version.)

We had planned to attend a quarter horse race in the afternoon, but after seeing how fierce the storm was, we knew no right-minded cowboy would race his horse out in that mess.  If you are standing in the field, you can close your eyes, but when racing, it is best to have your eyes wide open.  These poor guys were in a field near the race track.

But the weekend was about two brothers who live too far apart.  Fueled by my brother’s excellent home brew beer, an occasional cigar and the absence of wives, we swapped many a story and opinion.

I even had the chance to snap a few shots of him just being himself.  He kinda looks like one of the locals, doesn't he - - except for the ball cap that says “Colorado Native.”  The bib overalls made him right at home at the auction.

So - thanks, Bro.  I had a great time.  Even better, I reconnected with my great brother.

And yes, Muleshoe was the perfect place to reconnect.

Muleshoe - The Auction

They do it every Saturday - folks from many miles around come to Muleshoe to sell or buy livestock.  We two city boys had never been to a livestock auction before, so after assuring the staff that I wasn’t from PETA and was not trying to cause trouble with my cameras,  we wandered around to see the action.

Of course, one must size up the possibilities before the auction.  The auction started at 9AM with sheep, goats and some hogs, with the cattle auction starting at 1PM.  First thing in the morning, most of the pens held sheep and goats - though I was amazed to see some llamas.  I was told later that many ranchers put llamas and mules out with their cattle to protect them from coyotes.

And I thought mules was just the name of the school mascot.

(As always, be sure to click on each photo - you will see a larger version of the picture if you do.)

Each animal is identified by a tag or sticker and when the time comes, the critters are herded into the ring - in one door, parade around for a few minutes, then out the other door.  While the ring men swat the sheep/goats/cows/horses to keep them moving, the auctioneer prattles on with a running tab of the prices electronically displayed above him.  By the way - the ring men were pretty easy with the plastic paddles, which make more noise than anything else.  Even the most recalcitrant animal didn’t get much more than a swat on the butt.

The bidding is like any other auction - it is a mystery how the auctioneer sees the bids.  A little nod here, a dip of the head there - somehow he sees the bids and keeps things going.  The ring men occasionally point out someone in the crowd to help him see all the bidders, but for the most part, he relies on years of experience - and a knowledge of his customers.  They all seem to know each other, though I did hear him once say “75, from the man I’ve never seen before.”  More often, I’d hear things like “Fred?  You through?” or “Hey - this is a nice steer, Jimmy.”

Few of the animals were sold in large groups - they were auctioned off either one at a time or in small herds of six or seven.  I was surprised to see so many goats - one rancher told me a few were sold for milk, but most were meat goats, intended for the Muslim population around the Dallas area.  Some of the smaller kids were sold to families who would raise them as a project for the children.

And yes - there were some photogenic types around too.  Some fit the image of the West Texas cowboy - and others were a mixture - a little bit typical American teenager with a little bit of cowboy too.

In other words, Americans.

Thanks to Jaime Myers for the hospitality.  The brothers enjoyed their day at the livestock auction.